


Honor

by pinksnowboots



Series: Tellius Week 2017 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Day 2, Gallia, Honor, Instinct, Post-Canon, Ranulf's job isn't working out for him, So he goes to find himself in the desert, Tellius Week, Tellius Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksnowboots/pseuds/pinksnowboots
Summary: Skrimir embodies all of the best qualities of Gallians. He also embodies some of the worst.Ranulf gets burnt out: on war, on devoting his life to Gallia, and on Skrimir. So he goes to the desert to find himself and his honor.Part one written for Tellius Week 2017, Day 2: Gallia/Instinct/Honor. To be continued.





	Honor

**Author's Note:**

> This started out with me thinking about Ranulf and Skrimir for about 24 hours, and then I started thinking about Tormod and Maurim and Stefan starting free laguz and branded nations in the desert post-canon, and well, I'm just going with it. We haven't gotten to the desert quite yet, but we will, I promise.

Ranulf had never thought that anyone would call him the voice of reason in a group, but somehow, after the Mad King’s War he ends up becoming a professional Voice of Reason for the one and only heir to the Gallian throne. 

Well, technically he’s a sub-commander in the Gallian army, but everyone knows what his real job is.

At first, it’s not a bad gig. True, Skrimir embodies all of the flaws of the beast tribe as a species: he’s stubborn, ruled by his instincts and emotions, over-confident in his own strength, and lacks absolutely any sort of impulse control. But he also embodies the strengths of Gallians: he’s incredibly devoted to his country and its people, brave to a fault, willing to do anything to protect his country, and above all, honorable.

Besides, Ranulf is a pretty personable guy, and ignoring the stubbornness and lack of voice control, Skrimir is a good man as well as a fairly good prospective king, and they become close quickly in peace time.

Is it tiring to constantly remind Skrimir to treat his injuries before he bleeds out? Yes. Is it frustrating to talk at length through tactical options only to be ignored by an imperious “We will fight with honor, and attack directly with all our strength.” and a wave of Skrimir’s royal paw? Yes. Does he sometimes have nightmares about Skrimir rushing headfirst into an early death, leaving Gallia in turmoil? Yes, definitely yes.

But there’s good parts too: Skrimir laughing his booming belly laugh as he throws an arm around Ranulf’s shoulder, high off the adrenaline of yet another successful battle, Skrimir confiding in Ranulf late at night over an oversized mug of beer about how he’s worried about being a good king, Skrimir wearing him down into skipping training for one day to go swimming in the lake instead. 

Ranulf can see why Skrimir is loved by the vast majority of Gallians. He embodies what they see as the soul of their country, and all of the greatest qualities of Gallians. Yes, he has flaws, but he wears them on his sleeve and laughs them away with the utmost confidence, convincing an entire nation through sheer charisma that his flaws aren’t anything to worry about.

It works, or at least it has worked so far. They’re still in peace time, so Ranulf doesn’t want to examine it too closely, doesn’t want to provoke any sort of rift between his superior/future king/best friend when it’s not necessary, so he lets his vague sense of misgivings go.

* * *

 

Then the second war starts, and things start to crack. 

Skrimir’s strategy of “charge at the enemy and let your instincts take over” work for a while, but the beorc that they’re fighting aren’t stupid, and they figure out that strategy (or lack thereof) pretty quickly.

Casualties from battles begin to rise, and their beorc allies get increasingly frustrated about having to shape their strategies about containing Skrimir and his men, or at least keeping up with them so they don’t rush into battle alone.

A few of them look at Ranulf accusingly, wondering why he doesn’t talk sense into Skrimir, but it’s becoming abundantly clear that no matter how much Skrimir tells Ranulf that he’s so pleased to have Ranulf by his side, that Ranulf is a comfort and an invaluable help, he will not change his mind based on Ranulf’s opinions. 

In fact, the only person who has even a chance of influencing Skrimir’s opinions is, through a strange twist of fate, Soren. Skrimir has become strangely enamored of the “little tactician” and his penchant for keeping Skrimir and his men alive time after time, completely oblivious to the fact that Soren watches Skrimir with the wariness of a small animal trying to decide if it is about to be eaten.

Ranulf should be pleased that Skrimir is half-way listening to _someone_ , at the very least, but he’s frustrated. Frustrated that Skrimir accepts and takes his friendship and support as a matter of course, but ignores his counsel in favor of a little beorc he’s just met. 

To be fair to Soren, he seems about as frustrated as Ranulf is, if not more. He holds no love for Skrimir, and his strategies are constantly restricted by the need to keep his allies, whom he does not even like, alive. 

Ranulf thinks that maybe if Soren were a little less uptight, they could bond over this, but Soren has no interest in that, instead casting glares at Ranulf every time he hears Skrimir’s voice calling for the “little tactician.” 

“Look, I’m not a lion tamer.” Ranulf tells Soren after one particularly harrying meeting that leaves his nerves fried. “So stop looking at me like it’s my fault every time he opens his mouth.”

“What sort of retainer are you,” Soren replies, derisive, “If you cannot even get it through his thick skull that I do not want to sit next to him in strategy meetings. It’s an even simpler concept than the fact that he cannot single-handedly defeat the entire Begnion army, something that I would think even your simplistic animal brains could handle.”

“Look,” Ranulf snaps, “Just because you and Ike have this magical relationship where you hang onto every word that comes out of each other’s mouths, doesn’t mean that everyone has to be like that. Maybe in all your ultimate wisdom, you should consider the fact that Gallia operates differently than your little mercenary family.”

Soren’s face turns murderous, and Ranulf immediately knows that he’s made a mistake. Everyone knows that you do not say anything negative about Ike within earshot of Soren; only someone incredibly stupid would even think about antagonizing him like that. Ranulf is normally not incredibly stupid, and besides, he considers Ike to be a good friend, but he’s burnt out and emotionally exhausted and Soren is doing nothing but making it worse. It’s not a good excuse, but it is what it is. 

“Ike,” Soren says, voice cold as ice, “Has nothing to do with this.”

He turns and storms away, and Ranulf would be mad at not having the last word, but honestly he’s lucky that Soren had not actually attacked him, even if he only restrained himself because Ike would disapprove of him roasting their allies.

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest move all things considered, but Soren didn’t like him anyway and snapping at Soren keeps him from snapping at Skrimir, who actually does like him, even if he doesn’t listen. 

“Ranulf!” Skrimir’s voice booms from behind him. “I’ve been looking for you. Come join me, we must toast to our string of victories.”

“String of Victories” is not how Ranulf would describe their recent battles, but he’s tired from his encounter with Soren and he does miss spending time with Skrimir without battles hanging over their head. Besides, alcohol sounds like the perfect way to drown out the underlying twinge of frustration he has at Skrimir and the way he takes Ranulf for granted and treats the war like another game he’s sure to win, so he goes.

* * *

 

Ranulf’s frustration and worry and anger and fear don’t entirely go away, but they remain under the surface, manageable for the most part. 

Or at least it does until Skrimir breaks formation, completely ruins the tactics that Soren has already changed five times to suit Skrimir’s whims, and almost gets Ranulf killed as he and Ike furiously fight their way up the hill in the desperate hope they can get to Skrimir before Zelgius kills him. Ranulf is running on pure adrenaline and terror, and he is sure that he’s going to owe a life debt to Ike after this for his support and lack of judgement.

Despite their best efforts, they’re too slow. Zelgius defeats Skrimir, and almost kills him. But for the general’s strange sense of morality and honor, Ranulf’s nightmares about Skrimir’s death and the fall of Gallia would have come true, and he would have utterly failed to prevent it. 

Even as it is, Skrimir is gravely injured, Gallia is forced to retreat, and the Laguz Alliance collapses. And all of it is Skrimir’s fault. 

Skrimir, for his part, does not seem to realize or care. As soon as he regains consciousness, he tells Ranulf, “General Zelgius will regret the day that he insulted me by deigning to spare my life, as if I were not his equal. Though he could be a worthy adversary, he did not issue the challenge in an honorable way, and therefore my defeat means nothing.”

Ranulf, already full of too many emotions to sort them out, let alone hold them back, is dumbfounded. “Nothing? That defeat almost meant your life, and the future of Gallia! How can you talk about honor when you almost threw away your life for...for what? Foolish pride, and nothing more.”

Skrimir looks shocked, because Ranulf, for all that he’s thought it before, has never voiced anything like this. 

“I accepted his challenge, as was the honorable thing to do. A king of Gallia should do nothing less. And you, how can you lecture me about honor? You tried to interfere with a fight that had nothing to do with you.”

“I tried to save your life!” Ranulf says, voice rising. “And there is no honor in throwing your life away.”

“Surrender? No.” Skrimir does not have to raise his voice, because it is already so loud that it fills the room. “There is honor in fair combat, and in a death met bravely at the hands of a superior adversary. There is no honor in surrender.”

“There is a difference between surrender and strategic retreat. Your thought should be for the good of your country, not of your ego and it’s ‘honor.’” Ranulf’s mouth moves faster than his mind. “If this is how you are going to act, then perhaps Gallia would be better off without you.” 

Ranulf could never physically hurt Skrimir, even if he wanted to, but at his words, Skrimir looks like he has been struck. 

Perhaps Ranulf should have voiced some of his concerns to Skrimir before they blew up like this, rather than simply arguing with Skrimir in his head while supporting him unconditionally to his face, but it’s too late now.

“You are a disgrace to Gallia” Skrimir lashes back, “You have no honor.”

“I find my honor in serving my country, and in keeping you alive.” Ranulf says, struggling to keep his voice under control, “But it seems that you have decided to make that impossible for me.”

He walks away before Skrimir can respond, so angry that he is shaking. He hears Skrimir calling something after him, but although every part of his body is telling him to turn around, he does not look back.

* * *

 

The retreat to Gallia is tense, and the atmosphere among the soldiers is dismal. They have no inkling of the fight between Skrimir and Ranulf, but retreat goes against Gallian instincts, and the tension between Skrimir and Ranulf means that Skrimir has temporarily lost the charisma that usually holds the troops together. 

As soon as they have gotten safely to the Gallian capital, Ranulf goes to Caineghis and asks to be reassigned to a different division, away from Skrimir. 

Caineghis sighs. “I am disappointed, but I cannot say that I am surprised.” 

Ranulf opens his mouth to defend himself, but Caineghis holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I do not mean that I am disappointed in you. My nephew is difficult, and I don’t believe that many Gallians would have lasted as long as you did. I had hoped that he had changed, especially since you truly seemed to be a good influence upon him, but I suppose he still has a long way to go.”

Ranulf does not know what he can say that is safe, so he keeps his mouth shut. 

“Well, it is what it is.” Caineghis says, resigned. “I’ll move you to another unit for the time being, and I will talk to my nephew.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Ranulf says, bowing his head to show his neck, a sign of deference in Gallia. 

“You are a valuable member of the Gallian forces, Ranulf.” Caineghis says. “And I do hope that one day you and my nephew can work together again.”

Ranulf nods, but cannot bring himself to echo the sentiment. 

Caineghis sighs again, and waves his hand in dismissal.

* * *

 

The rest of the war passes in a blur. The world breaks in half and is somehow put back together again, but with new scars, and once again they reach a tenuous peace.

Ranulf’s relationship with Skrimir, on the other hand, remains broken, for all that they fought on the same side throughout.

After everything returns to normal, Ranulf goes to Caineghis again, begging one last favor before Skrimir officially takes the throne.

“I want to keep serving Gallia.” Ranulf says, and means it with all his heart. “But I still can’t work closely with him. Not yet. Please, tell me you still have a place for me.”

Caineghis thinks it over, and as one of his last acts as king, appoints Ranulf as the Gallian ambassador to the two newly formed nations in the formerly Begnion-owned desert, founded by, respectively, Tormod and Maurim and Stefan.

So Ranulf, is emotionally and physically worn out, completely burnt out on war, and Skrimir, and self-sacrifice, leaves the home that he’s always known and heads towards the desert in search of his own definition of honor.

**Author's Note:**

> Are there typos? Probably. Please tell me if you find any!
> 
> Is this super incomplete? Yes. I'm in the midst of packing to go home and already a day behind, so this is all I've gotten out so far. BUT I really want to finish this, so fingers crossed, it will get finished.
> 
> Why do I like to write about things that almost no one probably wants to read? Who knows, but it is what it is.


End file.
